The Walk Home
by Laatija
Summary: "He was never ready for anything Poe did. The kid was a like a misfiring plasma canon. Kes stopped being ready for Poe the day that Shara died. And he wondered, sometimes, if that was one of the reasons that Poe ran away from home..." - A piece of Poe Dameron's backstory. Some spoilers for TROS but nothing major.


A/N: This story contains one important back-story spoiler for Poe Dameron from TROS. It won't spoil the movie for you but its there, all the same. Spoilers below...

Here's the thing. I love Poe Dameron. And I know y'all out there writing some amazing Reylo stories in response to TROS and that's cool. But someone put a bug in my ear about Poe and the Dameron Family. We know now that Poe was a Spice Runner. According to the visual dictionary, Poe ran away from home as a teenager and spent his teen years running spice before he came to his senses and went back home. I might write some of his adventures as a spice runner later on but someone pointed out to me how horrible Kes must have felt in that time period. And that stayed with me. So here is a moment for you - the moment when Poe came home after running away from home for years. How do you do that? How do you go home to your grieving father after defying him for so long? For me, for Kes and Poe, it starts with the walk home...

* * *

**The Walk Home**

Kes was running.

He was running because his speeder was in pieces in the shed. It was the hardest he'd run in a decade. It wasn't as if he had gotten complacent in life. He wasn't sedentary. Kes Dameron worked hard these days – harder, perhaps, than someone his age should be working. He worked all day and sometimes all night when his anxious thoughts got the better of him and drove him out of a house that was too empty to be comfortable.

That was why his speeder was on permacrete blocks in the shed. He'd been in there, fine tuning the lifters and cleaning the vents, when the call came in from the cantina in town. Poe was there and needed a ride and would Kes please come pick him up?

At first Kes had assumed it was a horrible joke. Poe hadn't been on Yavin for _years_ and he certainly had wanted nothing to do with Kes in that time. The person on the commlink wasn't Poe – it had been some waitress. She didn't go into details and hadn't answered his wild questions. Poe was there. He needed a ride. That was all.

Never in his life had Kes felt so conflicted. Most things in his life were simple. He viewed the world through a fairly basic lens of koyo melons and hunting and farm maintenance. But this? He didn't know what he was feeling. It was complicated. But he knew one thing for certain – he had to get to the cantina as quickly as possible.

So he ran.

And he begged Shara to give him guidance or words of wisdom or _something_. Because she would be able to handle this. She'd come in with her wit and strength and spirit and she'd handle their son in exactly the right way. If only she were the parent to have survived for this moment.

He made it to the cantina within fifteen minutes but his lungs were burning and his knees creaked. He really was too old to be sprinting.

It was either very late at night or very early in the morning, depending on who you were. There was music coming from the cantina but it wasn't rowdy music. It was the softer drone that signaled the end of the night. As Kes approached the door, a pair of revelers came stumbling out with a gush of laughter. They paid him no mind as they wobbled away.

Inside, the lights were dim and it smelled like fried food and beer and wood smoke. It was a familiar smell. Kes had spent plenty of time in the cantina, especially in his youth. It had been a while though. He didn't often leave the farm these days and it was even more rare for him to go out for a drink. He did most of his drinking alone, when he dared to touch a bottle at all.

"Dad."

Kes spun to his right. And there he was.

He'd matured a lot in the last few years. He wasn't much taller but he'd filled out his gangly youthful frame. He had a haze of stubble. His hair had been long when he left but it was shorter now and slicked straight up in the middle, like a ridiculous mohawk. He was dressed in leathers and bandoleers and brazenly wore a blaster on his hip like some cocksure bounty hunter.

Poe.

Kes wasn't sure if he wanted to hug him or chew him out for the way he just walked back into town as if nothing was wrong. The lecture, the tirade, the hurt – it was all on the tip of Kes's tongue as he stared at his only child.

But it was the way that Poe looked back at him that stayed his words.

Poe was afraid. He was defensive. He was already bristling, Kes could read it in his body language. But there was legitimate fear in his eyes.

"Let's go home," Kes finally said.

Poe took a shuddering breath. "I…I don't have any money…" he stuttered, looking over at an empty table where a mug was sitting.

Kes wordlessly dug around in his pocket and pulled out a few credits, slapping them down on the table with more force than he intended and he hated the way that Poe flinched at the sound.

"C'mon," he prompted again, heading for the door. Poe silently gathered up a battered bag and followed after him, trailing a good three or four feet behind Kes.

For a few minutes, it was just the sound of walking. It might have been peaceful except that Kes was bursting with nervous energy and he could feel it coming off of Poe too. The tension was electric.

"…where's the speeder?" Poe asked quietly.

"In the shed. I'm fixing it. I didn't think I'd need to come to town tonight," Kes answered shortly.

"Oh."

They lapsed back into silence while the questions crowded through Kes's mind. He remembered the day that Poe took off. He'd been terrified. He called in favors from his pathfinder days, hunted around for any trace of him, for _months_. It was a full year before Han spotted him with the spice runners. The news had hit Kes like a ton of bricks. It was hard to be thrilled at the good news that Poe was alive when Poe was running with a group that would surely get him killed. Han had tried to get close enough to talk to Poe but never quite caught up with him. All that Han had managed was to do was make sure Poe was alive every few weeks.

Fear didn't quite cover what Kes had felt for Poe the in the last several years. Fear was just the top layer of a much deeper, anxiety fueled experience. He'd been angry too but mostly at himself. There were a few sour notes of disappointment and even a few nights of blind terror and despair.

And all of it compounded into this one walk home.

They'd started down the road that lead to the farm and the jungle was thick. It wasn't quiet. The jungle was never quiet. But it was more peaceful than being in town. It was easy to feel alone.

"D-dad," came Poe's wavering voice. His voice sounded both rough and vulnerable at the same time – like a teenager who had grown up far too quickly.

"We can talk about it in the morning," Kes said gruffly. He wasn't ready to talk yet. He was never ready for anything Poe did. The kid was a like a misfiring plasma canon. Kes stopped being ready for Poe the day that Shara died. And he wondered, sometimes, if that was one of the reasons that Poe ran away from home to begin with.

"Dad,_ please_…"

Kes pulled to a stop, feeling a pressure behind his eyes. It was when he stopped that he actually heard Poe's footsteps – or at least the rhythm of them. Something was wrong. He looked over at Poe with a frown.

His heart broke all over again.

He had missed it before, in the bluster of the cantina. Poe had been defensive from the start but five minutes into a walk and the reality was bleeding through. The boy was running ragged. He looked battered now. Rough. He kept his weight off his leg like there was something wrong but whatever was wrong was hidden behind a pathetic excuse for leather armor. Poe looked exhausted, starving and, if Kes was reading him right, haunted.

"Oh mijo," Kes murmured.

Poe stood there, trying to look like he had it together. Kes wondered how many times he had to pretend like that when he was running spice. It hurt to think that his son had been out there on his own in such a seedy crowd. He was just a boy when he ran away.

Kes realized, with a start, that he wasn't a boy anymore.

"Can you walk a little slower?" Poe asked, shifting awkwardly.

Kes came over to him and noted how furtively Poe watched him, like a wounded animal. Or a cornered criminal. "You're hurt?" He reached out to touch Poe's shoulder and Poe flinched away from him. The flinch hit Kes like a kick to the gut. He'd never hit Poe. Ever. They were a family who hugged. Love was expressed through a kind touch, especially when words couldn't be found.

"I'm fine. It's fine. I just thought you'd bring the speeder," Poe insisted. As if to prove to Kes how fine it was, Poe powered ahead. Now that Kes was looking for it, he could see the limp.

Kes fell in beside him, letting Poe set the pace. It was at least nice to see that Poe still remembered the right paths to take to get back to the farm.

"Where'd you fly in from?" Kes finally asked, needing to fill in some space.

Poe glanced sideways at him. "Bonadan. I hitched a ride with one of the merchants."

"Oh good. That's good." Kes cleared his throat. He would have found someone with a ship to collect Poe if he'd only known where Poe was. "Why were you on Bonadan?"

Poe was silent long enough for Kes to assume he wasn't going to get an answer. But then came a very meek admission: "I'm not wanted on Bonadan."

Kes felt sick. He felt sick for his child. He felt sick for the future. He could already imagine a company of Republic officers coming to haul Poe off to prison for smuggling crimes.

"Poe…"

His son gave him a forlorn look. Guilt was scrawled all over his face. He _knew_ he had messed up. And he was still trying to be strong. "Can we _please_ talk about it in the morning?"

"Poe—"

"I'm really tired, dad. I promise I'll tell you everything in the morning." He struggled forward, down the path, but he'd already tipped his hand. He already showed Kes everything that Kes needed to know.

Kes reached out and caught Poe's arm, pulling him to a stop. Poe didn't resist him. The younger Dameron looked up at Kes with wide eyes and a quivering lip.

"I'm sorry," he blurted. His eyes were huge and watery. "Dad, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

Kes wrapped his arms around Poe and the tension broke into sobs as the wayward young man fell into him. Kes himself was fighting back tears as he held his child. After years of fearing the worst, having him now, in his arms, was overwhelming. Kes pressed his hand to the back of Poe's head, gripped his silly armor leather armor, breathed him in. Poe wasn't a street hardened criminal. He was Kes's boy – a strong willed, curly headed ball of energy.

"It's alright, Poe," Kes murmured.

Poe was trembling in his arms and Kes was worried he wouldn't be able to make it all the way home. He understood why he had hoped for a speeder. For several long minutes, Kes just held on to him and Poe just cried. The moment was more important than lectures and explanations – which was good because Kes wasn't sure yet how to lecture Poe and he wasn't sure he was ready for an explanation.

Everything was different now.

Kes helped his son home but he wasn't a kid anymore and Kes hauled him home with Poe's arm around his shoulders and his hand clamped to Poe's belt – just like Kes had done with dozens of his squad mates in battle. He felt cheated, in a way. Kes didn't mind Poe growing up but he felt like he'd missed too many important moments that had crafted Poe into who he was now. The years missing had been costly.

Poe was quiet on the way back to the farm and Kes could feel his shame. It hurt. Kes wished he could just take away all the bad decisions for him. He didn't even _know_ all of the bad decisions yet but it had to be significant if it rendered Poe shameful.

Together, they shuffled into the house and Kes deposited his son on a stool in the kitchen with instructions to take off his armor while Kes found the first aid kit. He hoped whatever was wrong could be fixed with a first aid kit. He wasn't sure he could take Poe to an official hospital if he had a record. If he were being honest, Kes wasn't even sure what he would do at all if Poe was a wanted criminal. It would impact his future.

He looked over at Poe as pieces of leather fell into a pile on the floor. He looked a lot smaller without it on. Smaller and more vulnerable. Kes remembered when Poe was eight and struggling to pull off the stiff black jacket that he had to wear to Shara's funeral. The boy had been so solemn and still the whole day, wearing his uncomfortable clothes like they contained all of his sorrow. But that night had been a different story. After all the guests had left and all the mourners had gone home for the night, when it was just him and Poe, his son had attacked the suit jacket like it was strangling him. His pudgy eight year old fingers had managed to rip a few buttons off before Kes came to his rescue. He'd held Poe that whole night, even after Poe had fallen asleep. Kes never asked him to wear the formal jacket ever again.

"Everything looks the same." Poe was looking around the kitchen. He seemed relieved that it was all the same.

"I'm not very good at re-decorating," Kes admitted, idly. He came over to Poe to peer down at a smudgy bloody bandage that had been hastily wrapped just above his knee. Then his eyes skipped up to a silky pink scarf that Poe was pulling off from around his neck. He caught the way Poe pressed the scarf to his nose before gently folding it and setting it aside. "Looks like you got into a nasty fight."

"I handled it," Poe insisted, bristling again. "It's not that bad." He reached for the first aid kit himself and Kes let him take it, honestly not sure how far he needed to go to help his son before it wasn't helpful anymore.

"Sure sure," Kes soothed. He went to the sink and ran the tap. The water slapped against the metal as it spat out, sounding too loud for the early hour. He filled a cup and wet a rag – handing both of those things to Poe. Then he held on to the edge of the kitchen counter, gripping the well worn wood and trying not to be overwhelmed by the rush of memories from this kitchen. The good memories. He wished he could project those images onto the wall and remind Poe just how good life had been and explain why he never should have left and then beg Poe to tell him why. Why leave? Why abandon his life? What had Kes done wrong? How many of those memories were actually _bad_ memoires? How many moments did Kes miss? How much damage had amassed unnoticed before Poe was driven away?

Poe was watching him as he dabbed at the laser burn with the damp rag. It was deep but not life threatening. They could avoid a hospital if they were careful to keep it clean.

"Dad, I'm going to make this right," he finally said. His eyes were watery again. Guilt was still etched in his features but determination shone brightly in his eyes. "I-I'm…I'm gonna go to the base and…and talk to someone about what I did." He swallowed, dropping his gaze. "I have information they can use. Maybe I can make a deal and then I wanna join up. If they let me. I wanna fly like mom did. I will make this up to you, I promise—"

"Poe, it's okay," Kes cut in. He sniffed. "We'll talk about it in the morning."

Poe nodded at him, his eyes still wide and wet. "I understand if you're…if you're mad at me."

Kes came from around the counter and reached over to put his hand on Poe's shoulder. "We'll talk about it in the morning..."

He patted Poe's shoulder. Squeezed it. And then he walked away before he lost it. He walked all the way to his bedroom and to Shara's side of the bed. He sat there for a minute, just trying to breathe. Kes wiped at his eyes and sniffled. He looked up at the picture of Shara and stared at her, wondering how she would take care of the situation. She'd probably let Poe know exactly how scared she'd been. She'd probably go off on him. But she'd do it while she was fixing him his favorite meal. She'd do it and then hug him and kiss his forehead and take him to talk to the authorities where she'd probably argue that Poe was an innocent bystander in whatever nonsense he'd gotten in to.

Kes nodded dumbly at the picture on the wall. He moved to the dresser that he'd barely touched since she died. Most of her things were still exactly where they should be. He fished around for one thing in particular and then shuffled back out to the kitchen.

Poe was where he left him but he was looking down at the scarf on the counter, his face a picture of regret. Kes knew that look. He guessed there was a woman attached to the story of that scarf. He'd get that story later.

Poe stirred as he heard Kes coming back, surprise painting over his features – as if he didn't expect Kes to come back at all. "It's okay, dad, you can go to bed. I'll clean up out here—"

Kes held up his hand. Dangling from his fist was a chain and a ring. Her ring. Shara kept it on a chain sometimes, especially when she flew. Kes took it now and pressed it into Poe's hands.

Poe stared at him, looking stricken. His hands were trembling as he held tightly to his mothers ring. "I-I can't…dad, I can't take this…"

Kes reached up a hand and wrapped it firmly around the back of Poe's neck. He looked his son in the eye. "I missed you, Poe," he started. "I'm _glad_ you are home with me. I love you. I forgive you. It's going to be okay. We'll figure this out together. Alright?"

Tears were trailing down Poe's cheeks. His head bobbed up and down. Kes leaned in and kissed Poe's forehead. Poe reached for the hug this time and Kes held him tightly. It was only when Poe was ready to pull away that Kes let him go.

"Please go wash that poodoo out of your hair. You look ridiculous," he said with a watery smirk. "I'm afraid you're gonna slice my cheeks open with that crust."

A snort rippled out of Poe and he cracked an abashed smile. It was like a breath of fresh air. "Yes sir."

Kes squeezed his shoulder again and a small piece of normalcy slid back into place. "I'll make you breakfast in the morning."

"And we'll talk?" For the first time that night, Poe didn't look like a scared child. He looked like he'd found a place to land after a long fight with a storm. That made Kes feel like maybe he could do this.

"We'll talk," Kes promised. "Your room is how you left it. Might be dusty but you know where to find the clean blankets."

Poe nodded at him. "Thanks dad."

Kes nodded back. "You're welcome, Poe. Goodnight."

"Night."

Kes wearily retreated back to his room. He felt decades older in that moment but he also felt hopeful as he stretched out on his bed and listened to the sound of his child in the kitchen. The sink kicking on, the cabinet door creaking open and closed, plates clinking – the familiarity of it soothed over his soul like a much needed balm. The nightmare was finally over. His son had come home and his heart was restored.


End file.
